


the Dark One and the Light

by wtvoc



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Emma, Time Travel Fix-It, au-au, save killian jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtvoc/pseuds/wtvoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious woman lands in Storybrooke, and what she has to say makes Emma's world tilt on its axis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Wow." Emma's chest was heaving as she made an attempt at slowing her breathing. She grinned, turning her head to look at Killian's smug face. "You know, if that was an Olympic sport, you'd set a record for consecutive gold medals."

"You rather delight in making reference to things I don't understand, don't you?" He smirked, his eyes vibrant in the afterglow of their... relations. Emma wanted to stare into them forever but that was definitely too sappy, so she reconciled her thoughts by nudging his shoulder instead.

"I'm trying to say, like... I don't know. Well done, mate. Way to raise that mast." His delighted laughter made her swell with happiness until she felt the soft glow of her magic stir to life in the pit of her stomach.

Emma was almost disgusted by how content she felt with him lately. Sure, things were far from perfect, but she was getting used to this idea of a happily ever after for herself. With him. Ugh, she'd been hanging out with fairy tale characters too much.

"Thank you, love. But I think it's time to go swab the deck. Care to join me in the shower?" Nodding happily, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and followed him to the bathroom, smirking in the wake of his continued chuckles.

Seriously, the two of them were disgusting.

Ninety minutes later, Emma dropped him off at the station with the promise of lunch later. Killian was still getting used to the idea of pecking at a keyboard, so he was woefully behind on his paperwork. Her day began with a follow-up call from Clark (one of the Lost Ones they'd brought back from Neverland sprinkled pepper all over the pharmacy and Clark wanted to press charges on whichever delinquent it was), so she had to make her way across town. After checking all her rear-views and glancing over her shoulder, Emma faced forward and shifted into gear, the town still dead in the early morning.

Just as her foot pressed into the gas, she felt a tightening, a sick, jerking sensation, like the moment right after the car takes the initial plunge on the largest drop of a roller coaster. She felt like she was falling, a tiny pinch grasping from the bottom of her pelvis and up through her entire chest. Her heart raced; she felt a churning begin in her stomach and pulse up her throat.

A bright flash lit up the sky followed by a swirling mass of dark-streaked yellow smoke. Emma hit the brakes, her heart still racing, still feeling like she was going to... the only way she could describe it in that heart-pounding moment was that she felt like she was going to vomit her magic.

There was a horrific thump when the Bug came to a complete stop.

As weird the dirty-yellow smoke continued swirling around her car, it took Emma a few seconds to realize that she was hunched over the steering wheel, practically standing on one leg, she had hit the brakes so hard. Wincing at the cramp in her thigh, she eased up and pulled the brake. As the adrenaline fully hit every corner of her body, she realized that she had hit something. Or some _one_.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,_ her mind chanted as she hastily unbuckled her seat belt. Who the hell— _what_ the hell happened? There had been no one there; there was nothing there a second ago. Nothing but—

With a groan, she opened the door. All that swirly, dark yellow smoky nonsense could only mean one thing: magic. Was there a new player in town? They'd _just_ gotten rid of the snowy crap!

Cautiously, she stepped out of her car. She wrinkled her nose at the earthy smell, waving her hand to make the sulfurous smoke go away. It seemed to be clinging to her, though, which was weird. She thought of the way Regina's purple magicky smoke seemed to disappear as crisply as the Queen herself, so maybe this person wasn't as in control of their magic, and gee, isn't it just swell that there's a whole new sort of mystical fuckery to deal with on a day that had started out so well?

She crept around to the front of her car and her heart raced anew as she took in the prone form lying in front of it. The person was covered in a richly brocaded white cloak, and Emma just _knew_ someone had arrived from the Enchanted Forest. Great, awesome. What a welcome to Storybrooke, courtesy of your local Savior.

Kneeling down on one knee, Emma reached out to pull back the hood when the person sat up with a feminine groan. The woman's cloak fell away and black hair tumbled down her back making an arresting contrast to the pureness of the white fabric. Emma froze as their eyes met; it looked like Snow but not. She was beautiful in a terrifying way; the mystery woman's black eyes met Emma's in silent appraisal. It was those eyes that made Emma freeze up— she had never seen eyes that cold, that empty. Her hackles raised and her magic started another queasy roiling in her stomach.

"Emma? Thank the gods." The woman's voice was maddeningly familiar but not, heavy and rasping and edgy.

"Do I know you?" Emma was confused and worried. The woman's face took on a haughty expression, not unlike Regina's when her ire was up. Her chin tilted and her eyebrows lifted in challenge. Emma couldn't help noticing the way the sharp angles of her prominent cheekbones highlighted the perfection of her face. She had a dimple in her chin, and Emma started wondering if they were related.

"You could say that," the woman said with a dark laugh. It was on the tip of Emma's tongue to start asking all sorts of questions when she realized she should make sure the woman wasn't injured.

"Listen, are you okay? I didn't see you, and I'm really sorry I hit you. Did you... did you just like, arrive here? From... somewhere else?" Man, was it awkward asking if someone just magicked from another realm. Then again, this was Storybrooke. It probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing that happened all day.

"I'm fine, Emma. I just need to—"

"Emma! Emma, are you all right?" She turned to see Killian rushing toward her, his entire body tense with concern.

"Yeah," she called out. "I just—"

"Killian," the woman breathed. Emma turned back and when their eyes met again, she saw something fill the emptiness in the other woman's dark expression. Panic, followed by a shining light that was so fervent Emma gasped in response.

"He can't see me like this," the woman hissed. Drawing the hood back over her head, she stood and turned her back. "Take me somewhere. Anywhere. Don't let him near me."

"You could be hurt, you might need—"

"Now." Something in the woman's tone commanded Emma to comply despite all of her misgivings. She swallowed thickly and turned to Killian, warmth suffusing her body at the thought that he always seemed to know when something was wrong with her.

"Just a minor accident," she told him as he jogged to her side. He put his hand on her arm, squeezing lightly.

"Are you all right?" he breathed out, his eyes raking her over, probably checking her for bodily harm.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just have to get this lady over to the hospital to make sure she's okay. Came out of nowhere and all that." He seemed unconvinced as his eyes shifted to regard the woman in the white cloak. His head tilted and his tongue peeked out from between his teeth; furrowing his brow, he seemed about to say something but his mouth clamped shut.

"Let's get her to see Whale, then." At that, the woman's back stiffened visibly and Emma actually felt waves of hostility shoot at her in like, a magical way. Okay, then. No. She could tell that if she wanted answers from the woman, Killian would have to stay away.

"It's cool, I've got it. You go on back to the station and I'll fill you in on it later, okay?"

"Emma—"

"Sheriff Swan to you, Deputy," she said, trying to force lightness into her tone, but he wasn't having it. He looked at her strangely, his brow still furrowed as he glanced from her to the stranger in the white, now-billowing cloak. All the smoke had dissipated by now, but the smell of sulfur was still thick in the air, that brimstone-y, pungent odor that reeked of recent magic. And Emma knew that Killian could smell it, and that he knew what it meant.

"If you're certain—?"

"I am." She gave him a smile and looked at him, trying to communicate with her eyes that she'd tell him about it later, although how much she'd get to tell was still up in the air. Something told her that this recent arrival would be able to compel her to keep her mouth shut, and that thought didn't sit too well with her.

Killian nodded in acceptance though clearly still not comfortable with leaving. He trusted her, she knew that. She let out a heavy breath, watching him walk the way he came until he made it back to the station. Taking a huge inhale of cold morning air, she turned to face this— whoever _she_ was.

"So," Emma began awkwardly, wondering just how to greet someone who had managed to portal herself to the world without magic, anyway. "You wanna get in my car and we'll get you all checked out at the hosp— the uh, where the healers are?" Did they have hospitals in the Enchanted Forest?

"Take me to the docks," the woman stated regally, her tone clear it wasn't a suggestion so much as a command. "No one will see me there." Emma didn't like the sound of that.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but around here, I'm—"

"The sheriff. Yes, I know. Trust me, I know," she said darkly.

"Yeahhh, that's the thing. How do you know? Where did you say you know me from, again?"

"I didn't," she chuckled. "You can't trip me up, Emma." 'Trip me up?' Maybe she wasn't from the Enchanted Forest, if she talked like that.

"Look, if you're not hurt, then I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me who you are."

The woman sighed heavily. She took a step toward Emma, making her reach for her sidearm.

"Your gun won't save you, you know. You really ought to focus on your magic more, Emma."

Emma's mouth dropped open. Who did this lady think she was? Why did her words make Emma so uneasy? And why was her voice so familiar?

"Who are you?"

"I'll tell you all about it if we can go to the docks. I can't take the chance that someone will... recognize me."

"So you _are_ from the Enchanted Forest."

"I was born there, yes."

"And you just came from there, right?"

"Yep." Yep? Again with the not-Enchanted Forest-speak. This was going nowhere.

With another deep, exasperated breath, Emma decided to just cut the bullshit. She'd hear this woman out, and then she'd do... whatever she had to do. Weird as it was, odd as the situation was, _dark_ as this woman was, Emma somehow knew she wouldn't hurt her. And so far, she hadn't felt any deceit coming off of her.

"Okay. Get in the car." The woman's lips curled in a triumphant smirk, her eyes having retreated into that unrelenting, remorseless black. Actually, the only time they'd looked anything other than empty was that few seconds when the woman had registered that Killian was there.

And that was another thing. How did she know Killian? Was this someone from his past?

They drove out to the docks in total silence. Emma kept sneaking glances at the woman's face, her mind utterly perplexed at the expressions she was trying so hard to mask. It was like she didn't want to seem ruffled, but whatever she was looking at as they drove through the town seemed to jar her. Her eyes would widen, or she would stifle an indrawn breath at the oddest things— the school bus ambling by on its way to pick the children up at the first stop, Granny sweeping the walkway out in front of the diner, Gold's shop.

When they made it out to the waterfront, the woman finally spoke. "Park over in front of the old canning place." Deciding to just roll with it, Emma did as requested, cutting off the engine after rolling to a stop.

"Okay, mystery lady in the fabulous cape. What's the deal? How's the Enchanted Forest? Still all... green? What, are the ogres back? Do you guys need help? What's up?" Always masking her nerves with sarcasm, Emma almost cringed at the woman's raised eyebrow, like she knew exactly what Emma was doing.

"I'm going to tell you a story, and you're going to listen. And when I'm done, you'll see why I'm here, and why you have to do exactly what I'm going to tell you to do."

"Is that right?" Emma had just about had enough of the woman's demands and assumptions that she'd just fall in line. She was about to counter with some demands and assumptions of her own, but the next words out of the woman's mouth made her freeze.

"If you don't, Killian is going to die, and it will have been your fault."


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell does that mean?" Emma's heart was beating furiously. Of course the woman was insane, but... she fiercely believed her own words. The conviction in her eyes coupled with the sincerity radiating from her entire body made Emma ache all over; somehow, she knew this woman was dead serious and not wrong, and that made everything in Emma's body tighten. Her magic hadn't stopped doing that simmering thing the entire time, and it was like it was bubbling over now.

The woman chuckled. "It's exactly what it sounds like. I'm going to tell you the story, and you're not going to interrupt me." Again, her tone made it clear that Emma would fall in line, and against every bit of her rational mind yelling at her to contradict the woman, Emma's instincts told her to just shut up and hear her out. Because _Killian_.

"You said— you said Killian might die?"

"No, I said he is _going_ to die. Soon. Today, if I timed it right."

"What, are you from the future, or something?" Emma said, rolling her eyes at the familiarity of the entire conversation.

"Yep."

Oh.

The look of amusement on the woman's face was again so, so familiar, and Emma wracked her brain trying to figure out why. She studied the sharp features once more, ignoring the stark (and slightly terrifying) beauty. Her eyes raked over the woman's features, trying to find something to jog her memory, to figure out why she knew the woman. Again, Snow's face came to mind, but Mary Margaret didn't look so... unforgiving.

"Umm, how far into the future?"

"Far enough. Emma, just... hear me out. Please." The woman grimaced on that last word, like it wasn't something she relished saying, which was probably true. She didn't seem the type to ever ask for anything from anyone, and that more than anything made Emma sympathize. If there's one thing she understood, it was how hard it was asking for help.

"Yeah, sure. You gonna tell me who you are, though?"

The woman turned to face Emma fully. Reciprocating the gesture, Emma shifted to her right, her knee bending to curl her leg underneath her in the cramped quarters of the Volkswagen. The woman finally lowered her hood, again shaking out that dark, Snow-like hair. She reached up to her neck and unclasped the fastening at her throat, letting the cloak drop, the elegant folds bunching behind her as she leaned forward.

The gown beneath was also white, but a much simpler fabric compared to the rich velvet brocade of the outer garment. The fabric was soft and muted, raw silk, maybe, three-quarter sleeves cuffed simply without lace or embroidery. She wasn't wearing a corset and didn't seem squeezed into the dress or anything; Emma suppressed a smile, remembering all too well the restrictive clothing they wore in that realm. She'd probably wear the same kind of thing if she'd ever found herself stuck back there again.

The woman mirrored Emma's position, turning so that her left leg was tucked under her right knee. Then she reached out with both hands and Emma flinched, bracing herself for some sort of magical assault, but that didn't happen. Instead, the woman slowly turned both arms so that her palms were facing up, right under Emma's face. And that's when she noticed it.

There, on the left wrist. The inked buttercup.

 _What_.

"Well?" The woman's voice seemed taunting; teasing, even. Emma couldn't summon any kind of response. What. The fuck.

"Why do you have my tattoo?" she whispered, but the magic inside answered for her. Because she knew in that moment. She didn't know if it was the familiarity of the woman in general, or her sharp, adamant command that Killian not see her like this, or maybe just magic realizing it recognized itself. But she knew. Holy fuck, did she know.

"I think you know."

"This can't be happening."

"Emma," she chided. "You live in a state of perpetual denial, especially when it comes to self-reflection. Literally, in this case."

"Listen, lady. I may have hit you with my car, but I'm getting tired of your cryptic shit. Who are you, where did you come from, and more importantly— why the fuck do you have the same tattoo as me? Single white female much?"

The other woman chuckled. "Wow. I haven't heard a good nineties reference in a long time. Or any movie reference, really."

"Don't even. Don't you—" Emma closed her eyes and sighed. "I think you'd better start talking _right now._ " She ended in a furious whisper, because seriously. What. The fuck. This woman. Was her. She could feel the confirmation in her gut. So that means—

That means.

What the fuck happens in the future that would make her come back to warn... well, herself?

What the fuck happens to Killian? Oh, Jesus. She said Killian was going to die. Did he die in this person's past? Was he going to die in _her_ future? A sudden wave of dizziness hit her, and she wasn't sure if it was the magic or the situation or what, but she felt a freaking swoon coming on.

"Oh, for crying out loud," the other Emma said with exasperation, reaching out to put her hand (the buttercup tattoo hand) on Emma's arm. She felt a spark, a dark, electric surge zap through her. Magic met magic and it was like doing a tall Americano with four extra shots in it; her inner magic boiled briefly before simmering down as she sat up with a jolt.

"Don't ever do that again!" she near shouted; the other Emma appeared amused. "Hey, it's not fucking funny. And oh my God, start talking because seriously, what the hell? Why did you dye your hair? You look like Mary Margaret, I mean Mom. Was she behind that? Because—"

"Emma. Shut up. Mary Margaret did not do this. I did; _we_ did. Now, are you gonna be quiet, or do I need to cast a Silencing Spell on you?" Emma glared at her... self, but she kept her mouth shut. If anything, the tale of how she went bottle black ought to be entertaining.

"I'm going to tell you everything, and you're not going to interrupt. I'll answer your questions at the end, at least those that need answering. Got it?" Feeling more than mild effrontery at the brush-off, Emma merely nodded her head once, pressing her lips together to stop the immediate sarcastic retort ready to fly from her lips. Once her future self seemed assured that Emma wasn't going to say anything, she curled one corner of her mouth and settled back a bit, seeming at ease despite the lack of room in the Bug.

"I'm from about twenty years from now," she began, and when Emma opened her mouth to ask what the hell kind of skin cream potions they made in the Enchanted Forest, the other woman narrowed her eyes at the almost-interruption. "Twenty years from now, you will get a disturbing visit from your baby brother if you don't do what I say. Now _listen_ to me.

"As you know, things were going fine. Well, fine for me. We had just defeated the Snow Queen, and things were settling back to what they had been before that first ice storm, do you remember it? Of course you do, that's you now." She smiled with her lips, but her eyes were still _devoid_ , still that unrelenting black. "I was finally in a good place for once in my life. I was home, I was solid with my parents, Henry was good, Killian... Killian was great. I can remember being struck dumb sometimes, when I would look over at him and I just knew he had been looking at me for some time. The devotion I'd see in his eyes, that small smile he beamed at me whenever it was just the two of us and no one was there to mock him for it. We were good.

"The only thing that wasn't good was Regina, though. I would feel guilty every time I saw her stalk into a room, could feel her angry glare from a thousand yards away. We had to team up to defeat the Snow Queen, right? And we did. But you'll recall that the entire time, there was strain. Pointed barbs, lots of sneering. I tried talking to her but she wouldn't hear it, always insisting we conquer the snow bitch and to mind my own damned business, if I could. And it's not like I could throw her sarcasm back in her face because I mean, I _was_ the reason for her pain. I really was." She shook her head, looking faintly disgusted; whether at herself or Regina, Emma couldn't tell. Probably both.

"Only it got to be annoying. Like, I tried to apologize a hundred times, and Regina not only wouldn't accept my apologies, she wouldn't hear me out. I got frustrated. Killian did everything he could to make me feel better," and here she let loose this smug smirk, not unlike the one Killian had given Emma from across the pillow earlier that morning. "But still, I was irritated. What did Regina want, for Marian to die? I knew she was pissed, but I also knew that she working on reforming. She _had_ to see that her not killing Robin's wife was a good thing, didn't she?

"Well, it all came to a head," she said, looking down at her lap. The entire time, her eyes had been looking out the windshield and off into the distance, but with that sentence, her entire demeanor shifted. For the first time, Emma saw and felt regret radiating off the woman like heat from the busted radiator in Killian's room back at Granny's. "With no evil villains running around town, things got quiet. One day, Killian and I went out to the edge of town to answer an arson call. We split up, looking for evidence. Then Regina was there, and I still don't know how, but somehow we got into it. She rolled right into her monologuing, accusing me of always acting without thinking, that one day I'd be the end of Storybrooke, that all my magic was just wasted potential. I got mad. It was like she had stored up every negative thing she ever thought about me and saved it to unleash in one giant, angry explosion of ugly words. She verbally attacked me, then she started in on Mary Margaret and finally, Killian. Told me that I was bad enough an influence on her son, but having that pirate around was the final straw.

"It felt like she was threatening us, and my mind scrambled around to find the right way to fix it, but as her irate words kept attacking me, I got more and more upset. Next thing I knew, Killian was there, putting himself in between us, and that made me mad, too. Not because he was interfering, but because it was just more fodder for Regina to keep throwing insults at me. So, I reacted." She paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath, like she was steeling herself for the next words.

"He— he told Regina to calm down. She didn't like that. And then I... I shouldn't have done it, I see that now. But at the time, I was just so _angry_. She wasn't seeing reason, she wasn't letting me explain or plead or apologize. So, I snapped. Told her to get over it, the entire town was over her and her royal bitchery, and maybe if she wasn't such an asshole, she'd be able to keep a man." Emma winced at that; yeah, it kind of sounded like something she said to herself deep down inside where she kept the nasty thoughts she managed to filter out, and she was embarrassed that a future version of herself had actually voiced it aloud.

"That's when it happened," she continued, her voice whisper-soft. "One minute I'm engaging the Evil Queen in a furious staring contest, the next she's raising her arm. I can distinctly remember the look of triumph in her eyes as the flames started licking at her fingers. For a second, I was pretty sure she was going to toss it at me because she maintained eye contact the entire time, but no. It wasn't me she was aiming for.

"Killian was hit by the fireball right in the center of his chest. I felt my magic woosh up my chest— kind of like when you use a match and too much gas to light your stove. It was scalding and angry, like water boiling over, and I was focusing it to protect him when I felt this wall slam right into my body, knocking me on my ass. I was dazed and panicked for a few seconds. I blinked a few times and shot up, but—" She took a huge breath and let it out before continuing. "But it was too late. All that was left was this crazy swirl of thick, gray ash and a shiny hook." Emma gasped and felt her throat tighten, her stomach churning. The look of desolation on the other woman's face was a terrible thing to witness, and only the second time Emma had seen any emotion flickering in her eyes.

"I— I don't have a clear memory of what happened next. All I remember is the thick, dark amber haze that I felt twisting inside of me. All the other times I just reacted with my magic, it felt... white. You know? Well, of course _you_ know. White and light and bursting with... lightness. I know that's lame, but I know you understand. Not this time, though. This time I felt choked with power, with dark power.

"If you'd asked me before, or I guess if I asked you now, I would have said that dark magic was black. But I guess it's kind of a personal thing, you know? Regina disappears in a poof of purple, Gold swirls around in red. Me? Dark, streaky amber. I discovered it that day. I felt it touching everything inside of me, filling me with this desperate anger, the kind that like, if you acknowledge your despair, you'll cry and sob until you're too exhausted to stay conscious so you fall asleep. But the dark amber wouldn't let me do that. It insisted that I react, that I lay shit to waste. So, I did.

"I don't remember what happened or what I did, but I do remember the rawness of my throat in the aftermath and the wetness on my cheeks. They told me later that my scream was felt by everyone in Storybrooke. Hen— Henry," and she gulped, "Henry told Gold that his heart broke when he felt it. Anyway, when I opened my eyes and swiped at my cheeks, Regina was lying there in the dirt. I remembered laughing wildly at that, that I had managed to muss the Queen's usually pristine appearance, but my laughter died on my lips because I realized Regina was dead, and I'd killed her."

Emma's throat was dry. She tried swallowing a few times, but it didn't help. The other Emma met her eyes and smiled without humor.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I killed the Evil Queen. And to this day, I don't remember how I did it. I just... I allowed the grief to do it for me.

"Before I could even start questioning what the hell had just happened or process that Killian... Gold appeared in that red swirly thing he does. He took one look around and started _tutting_ at me. 'Well, dearie,' he finally said, 'you really do make me and the pirate look like amateurs when it comes to vengeance, don't you?' I felt this upsurge of annoyance and his eyes widened at me. I think _he_ felt it, too, and he didn't like what he felt. He actually looked alarmed, and you know what? I liked it. Because, Emma? That was it. That was the moment. Looking at it now, I know that's when it became too late for me to go back.

"Next thing I know, Gold is approaching me, holding out his hand. For lack of any better response, I took it, probably because I wanted someone to tell me what the hell to do. We poofed and ended up back in his shop. He started going on and on about me needing a mentor and how the town was going to turn on me and blah blah blah. It was all posturing, of course. I could feel it, could feel his deception, the duplicity in his words. He didn't want to help me, he wanted to control me. It was like with this new dark amber power boiling inside of me came a new awareness: that lie detector thing? Yeah, strengthened a thousand fold. I could practically read his thoughts, and I didn't like the way the story ended, if you know what I mean. As I stood there, I just fixed him with this cool gaze, and I could actually feel his unease. It was like he'd never seen me before, which I suppose he hadn't. Not this new Emma.

"I didn't want to listen to him anymore. I simply turned around and walked out. I didn't know what to do or where to go. I was wandering. David found me and like, I can remember him being all concerned. Somehow, he ended up getting me to follow him back to the loft. I wouldn't talk, couldn't talk. Couldn't tell him that Killian and Regina were dead. I didn't want to accidentally kill my parents, either. I think I sat there on the sofa, just looking out the window or at the wall or something, I don't know.

"Eventually, Mary Margaret was there, comforting and trying to get me to talk. Told me she'd felt my anguish and though it didn't seem that way now, I'd eventually begin the road to healing. The whole time, it's like I heard her words and I understood them, but I wasn't like, absorbing them. It's hard to explain. I just... I existed. And the entire time, inside, I boiled. Like this new magical feeling was slowly cooking my insides until they were toughened by fire, burnt. Black.

"Hours or maybe days later, Gold came over for a visit. After a while, he insisted I follow him to his shop so we could speak without interruption. I think David and Mary Margaret's hovering was annoying him, and since I didn't have anything better to do, I followed while he chattered on about how I was going to appreciate all that he would do for me. That was a mistake.

"When we were there at his shop, he kept going on and on about responsibilities and the townsfolk needing a leader and I was the natural choice but now that I had ventured into new, dark territory, I needed to learn to harness my power. And the whole time, I was waking up. My anger at his attempt to control me woke me up. Then he did it. He mentioned _him_. He said 'Killian' to me. That was another mistake.

"I can remember looking up at him through narrowed eyes. As he met my glare, I looked through his eyes and saw a terrible truth—it was like when you throw a rock in a pond and watch the ripples ebb to stillness. He lied. To everyone. He didn't give Belle his dagger, he still had it. _And I knew where it was._

"It's not like I had a conscious thought, like I told myself, _get the dagger_. No. But all the same, there I was, holding it. I thought to myself, _that's enough out of you, Rumpelstiltskin_. And... and then the dagger was in his heart, and my hand was on the hilt." Emma hissed in a breath because... fuck. She couldn't help speaking up.

"You killed Rumpelstiltskin."

"I did."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was silence in the car as both Emmas bit their lips. Finally, the older one took a deep breath and spoke.

"I became the Dark One."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gulp*


	3. Chapter 3

The words echoed dully over and over in Emma's mind. It was incomprehensible to her; how could she even deal with that information? Emma, the Dark One. Her maybe-future.

She looked up into the other woman's face, her eyes suddenly seeing things in a different way. The black hair and hollow eyes. The cutting cheekbones and sharp jaw. The cold perfection of her skin. Gold's skin turned leathery and glistening when he became the Dark One; it seemed that Emma would take on the appearance of a stone cold bitch when it happened to her. Was that some sort of reflection on their inner personalities? It was a thought she didn't want to devote much time to. In fact, she didn't want to think about any of it because while it seemed really fucking melodramatic, it also seemed plausible, and that scared the crap out of her. The idea that she could become— The idea that she was powerful enough to— _The idea that Killian dying would be some sort of catalyst for—_

Jesus. She needed a drink.

"So, uh. Wow. That's— that's some story. So all we have to do is—"

"I'm not done."

Emma pressed her fingertips between her brows, trying to keep her panic at a minimum. She had to hear how the story (her future) ended.

She had to know if there was a way to prevent all of _that_ from happening.

The future Emma took a deep breath and smiled, and maybe Emma was crazy, but she thought she saw a flicker of emotion, maybe sheepishness? It went away as quickly as it appeared; it made Emma wonder if she was even a little bit like that now, quick to suppress any emotions she was uncomfortable in sharing. Well, she knew she did that sometimes, but was it really that _bad_?

"So, what do you do when you realize you've become something unimaginable? I just stood there with that dagger, staring at the mess I'd made. Can you imagine it, Emma? I mean, I killed a man. Really, I killed two. And a woman. Two of those people the most powerful in all the realms, one of them the man I loved. Because you do love him, Emma. I came to realize that way after it was too late. Do you know what it's like feeling that way? Well, I do, and I'm going to be damned sure you never have to feel it, because it was fucking _awful_. To have this constant blackness frothing inside you, and that blackness is powerful, but it's like, it's full of self-loathing. I imagine Gold felt like that the entirety of his existence, and it's no wonder he was the way he was. You can't live with that feeling inside you without it making you unhinged, and I'd only been feeling it for days. He lived with it for _centuries_.

"Just as I was about to—I don't know, clean up, maybe—I felt this cool burn in my hand, and I looked down with surprise. I forgot I was holding the Dark One's dagger. Horrified, I watched as my name appeared on the blade in that flowy, old-timey font. _Emma Swan_ , it said. I remember shoving it in the back of my jeans and turning and walking out. I ignored the cool-burning metal against the skin of my back, afraid it was maybe leaving a permanent scar in my flesh.

"By then, I noticed that there were people out in the street blinking and looking around, like they were confused and seeking answers. I stood in front of Gold's shop, my mind totally blank and my chest full of angry buzzing. I heard pounding footsteps and looked up to see David and Mary Margaret rushing toward me, looks of panic and wariness on their faces as they approached. I never exactly asked, but I think that once again, the entire town felt the wave of my emotion when I killed Gold. Naturally, my parents were concerned.

"When they were about ten feet away they slowed; David put his hands out, his face careful, like he was approaching some dangerous animal that had to be put down. I'll never forget his eyes—they were so sad, so wide, so imploring. 'Emma,' he said to me. 'What happened?'

"I laughed. 'What happened? Shit, David. Utter shit. You should back off before I kill you, too.' I was joking, but I guess I can see how he took that as a warning of some sort. He stopped moving toward me and so did Mary Margaret; we had one of those _High Noon_ kind of stand-offs, the two of them staring at me, waiting for me to make a move. I don't know what they would have done if I had actually jumped or postured or said 'boo,' but my 'run away' instinct kicked in and told me not to find out.

"Without even thinking about it, I poofed. Found myself in Regina's vault. It was like I was on autopilot. I could feel that cold metal singeing my back. The burn was leeching up my spine and down my arms, pressing into my fingertips and guiding my movements. I pawed and clawed through Regina's things, passing by magical items that I didn't know but somehow recognized. It's weird, you know. Being controlled by darkness. I imagined my veins filling with oil and running up my arms, but I didn't actually see that or anything. That only happens in the movies. But I _felt_ it. Felt the viscous, syrupy weight of dark power coursing through my body.

"The Dark One's magic found whatever it had been looking for a half second before my fist closed around it; a magic bean. I chuckled darkly, totally unsurprised that Regina had been holding out on us. Before tossing the thing, the Dark One's power made me think of the Enchanted Forest. That swirling vortex of dizzying terror appeared right in the middle of the floor of Regina's vault. Without thinking about it, I leaped.

"I won't bore or scare you with the details of the next twenty years, Emma. Let's just say that I became the ruler of the entire realm. With my royal legacy and power, there's no way that wouldn't happen. I ruled, and I was neither fair nor kind. I took no joy in my reign. But it didn't exactly displease me, either.

"So, I lived. Sort of. It's kind of BS to call it living when you've got nothing to live for. Everything I cared about was either back here in the land without magic, or gone forever. David, Mary Margaret, Henry. Killian. Our instinct to run when things turn south is our biggest flaw, you know." The woman's smile was self-deprecating and sad, and Emma imagined she had the exact same expression on her face. "I left everyone and everything behind, and I resolved to never think about them again.

"And then a few days ago, at least for me, I felt this shimmering ripple. I had never felt it before, but I knew—or, I suppose, the Dark One knew—what it was. Someone had portaled into the Enchanted Forest. For twenty years, no one had crossed over. I would have known if they had. But now, there was someone new.

"I didn't have to wait long for him to make his presence known. He strolled right into my castle, bold as brass, like everyone in our family. He was at once familiar and unknown to me, but not in that 'the Dark One recognizes it' sort of way that I was used to deciphering. No, this young man reminded me of home. Which is, of course, where he came from.

"Henry says, "hi, Mom"' was his way of greeting me, and that's when it occurred to me why the kid looked so familiar. He had a bit of Henry in him, but his eyes and smile were all David. His dark hair and the elfish points on his ears, so much like Mary Margaret, confirmed it. I was looking at my kid brother, Neal. All grown up and standing right in front of me.

"What do you even do with that? Offer him a drink? I think I just glared at him, wondering if he wanted a family reunion or something. Then for one brief flicker of a second, I thought maybe something happened to someone in our family, but he seemed way too cheery for that. He started chatting at me. _Chatting_. Like we were old acquaintances or something. Like I didn't terrify him, which is how people tend to act around me now. Telling me about Storybrooke, filling me in on details I'd stopped caring about two decades before, like how David was still sheriff and Leroy his loyal deputy. It seemed that when all the villains were gone, town life pretty much settled into your standard, normal American thing. It sounded boring. It was probably wonderful.

"So my kid brother is there, grinning and looking utterly comfortable in my throne room, and even I was never at home there. After a good hour or so, he finally asked for a drink of water and told me he had a gift for me. 'Gift?' was the first thing I ever said to him. I had risked my life to save him as a baby, and the first time we had a meaningful exchange was me arching my eyebrow at him. He took it all in stride, though.

"His easy grin slipping into place, he approached me and put his hand on my arm. I don't think anyone had voluntarily touched me since... anyway. He placed a plain wooden box on my lap and took a step back. 'When you left, things were crazy, I guess,' he said. 'Henry inherited both Regina's vault and Mr. Gold's pawn shop. I think he's had these for a while, but it took years for us to figure out how to get me here without telling anyone about it. I don't know what's inside this box, exactly, but Henry seemed pretty excited about it. The gift is from him, from your son. He told me to tell you that you'd know what to do with them.' The instant Neal said, 'Henry,' I had stopped breathing. My _son_. I hadn't allowed myself to think about him in twenty years.

"After his brief explanation, I simply looked at the box in my lap. What could possibly be inside? Letters full of accusations? A grenade? Photographs? Gods, Killian's Hook? I almost didn't want to open it. I did, of course.

"I lifted the lid slowly. I knew there wouldn't be anything dangerous in there. Even if I had abandoned my kid again, I knew he was too good to do that to me. In fact, I would have put all my gold and power on it being a way to come back to him. In a sense, that's what was inside. Henry was right. I knew exactly what to do with the objects I found there.

"As I stared at them, Rumpelstiltskin's words from so long ago echoed in my mind, and the power of the Dark One surged within me. 'Legend says it can recreate any magic that's ever been wielded.' These two objects had never been used together, but somehow, Henry knew to get them to me.

"'I heard you used to be the Savior. So, I guess you're supposed to save us again, huh?'

"'I don't believe in that Savior crap anymore, Neal.'

"'Well, I do. Family thing,' he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively at me before pointing at himself. ' _I'm_ True North. You're the Savior. My nephew's the Believer. _He_ still believes in you. That means I do, too. So, I'm here to bring you home.'

"I felt this thrill rush through me at his words. Because I just knew. My power combined with those two things in the box were the answer to everything, and I hadn't even known I was asking any questions."

She paused, seeming to gather her thoughts. Emma found she was impatient to know, so she had to ask.

"What were the two objects in the box?" Her future self smiled, and it wasn't so terrible this time.

"The Black Fairy's wand, and Zelena's medallion."

Emma's eyes widened with realization. Her thoughts racing, she found that she already knew the next words that would come from her other's mouth.

"I would be able to recreate a time portal. As I sat there looking into the box, I allowed myself to picture Killian's face for the first time in twenty years. My mind was racing and my power was surging. Then Neal started to laugh with delight.

"'I _know_ you can do whatever it is you're supposed to do with those, Emma. Henry knew that. He believes in you. I do, too. The question is—do you believe in yourself?' And for the first time in a very long, long time, I did. I picked up the wand with one hand and clutched the medallion in the other, and as I concentrated on where I wanted to be, my mind focused on one thing: Killian. Scores of images of him flipped through my head like cards flying through the air, and my magic reached out and plucked one specific image: this morning, right here; the last time he and I shared a quiet moment together. Before I knew it, the floor was yawning before me and I was stepping in it and through it. Then you were hitting me with the Bug. And now, here we are."

The tale finally finished, it was like Emma expected more, but she knew there was nothing else to tell. She had to sit and listen to a story so horrible and fantastic but _true_ , and she had no response to any of it. What was there to say? I won't make those same mistakes? Because... well, she kind of did. Make those mistakes. Emma didn't doubt her older self for one minute, and not just because her lie detector wasn't going haywire.

After a few minutes of mutual, pensive silence, the other broke the stillness and spoke. "You know what needs to happen, right?"

"Uhh, no?" She was perplexed. Honestly, how was she supposed to stop the inevitable? Emma had already decided on the root cause of all this future strife she would have to endure, and it seemed that her future self should have Deloreaned back to thirty years ago (fifty years ago?), when she brought Marian back in the first place. "Are you sure you've jumped back far enough? Wouldn't it make everything easier if we hadn't brought Marian back to the future?"

Future Emma chuckled, muttering something about more movie references before taking on a somewhat more serious countenance. "Why does it have to be easy? What would letting Marian die accomplish? I'd have to live with the guilt of letting someone die when I know for a _fact_ that I could have saved her for the rest of my life. I might be a dark, scary bitch right now, but that doesn't mean I don't think about things like past regrets and potential errors in judgment. No, saving Marian was the right call, and you know it because I know it. And I think even Regina knows it. That's not it, that's not the answer at all. Don't you see?" Emma really, really didn't. She shook her head, a feeling of frustration surging through her. "Emma," she continued with a sigh. "Do you know what your problem is? You don't trust your own instincts, and you're impatient. You know it's a bad idea to goad Regina, and you get tired of the way she chooses to cope. If you hadn't called her out, none of this would have happened."

"Hey, I'm not the one who did it!" Emma practically shouted. Then she felt foolish, because it was literally only a matter of time before she would actually do just that. Taking a deep breath, she counted to five before she could continue. "I mean, now that you've told me, I don't see how we can avoid it! It seems like an inevitable confrontation to me."

"Inevitable, maybe. But the way you approach it can make all the difference. How many times have you regretted the way you said something, seriously? I think that if you can make Regina accept that saving Marian was the right thing to do, that maybe we can avoid getting the man we love killed. Emma," and here she sighed deeply, decades' worth of regret weighing her down. "I believe this is the way. Don't wait for confrontation, go talk to Regina on your own. Don't get mad. You have to control yourself. You have no _clue_ how powerful you are, and you have to... not goad Regina. Trust me."

Hearing anyone, even if it was her own self, tell her to control herself made Emma mad.

"Why the hell should I trust you?"

"Good question. Why should you? You don't trust anyone, not even yourself." She was smirking, and that annoyed Emma even more.

"Listen—"

"No, _you_ listen! I know you believe me, so why won't you listen to me? This _has_ to be the way. We _must_ save Killian. You don't want to know what your life is like without him. You really don't. You might see me sitting here all calm and rational, but trust me. I'm anything but. I've lived twenty years of emptiness. Neal coming to the castle jarred the first emotion that wasn't anger, regret, or resentment that I've felt since Killian died: it was _hope_. And then belief. You have all that _now_ , how could you possibly understand? I'm all darkness, Emma. There is no light in me, not anymore. But once I realized I might be able to change things and save him? It was like I've been floating around in some bottomless, murky lake, and for the first time in a long time I can see the vague haze of sunlight somewhere on the far-away surface. All I have to do is swim toward it. There's no light in me, but there could be, and that's how and why I'm here. And if you're too chickenshit to do something about it, then I will." With that, the future Emma turned to open the door, and Emma panicked, because what the hell did she think she was going to do?

"Wait— Emma," she said with a grimace, because how weird was _that_? How was she supposed to address herself? Your majesty? O Queen the Dark One? "Isn't it a bad idea to mess with the time line again? Like, isn't that unnatural?"

"Emma," she said with exasperation. "In twenty years, you will be more powerful than Rumpelstiltskin and Regina Mills combined, and you will be dark. But what will make you a true villain is that you will have no chance at redemption, so you won't bother trying. Well, I guess that's not true, not anymore. _This_ is your redemption, or it will be. It's my redemption, don't you see that? Killian was never supposed to die. I can feel it in my bones, in the magic that flows through them. Where I just came from? The magic in me was soiled, tarnished. But now that I'm here, where he's alive? It's... different. I can't explain how, it just is. It's still there, it's still black, but there's a new element now. It feels... more, somehow. It feels like I can do anything, like I'm somehow enhanced, and you know what else? It's telling me that there are possibilities. I've _never_ felt that before. It was always despair for me, but the instant I landed here, I felt rejuvenated, awakened, and I know why. It's because _he_ is here, he's alive, and he loves me. Love is light magic, Emma, the best kind. The kind that creates. Me? I destroy. That's all I know how to do. I was supposed to be the Savior, and I know that's what I have to be right now. I have to save him. If this isn't what I'm supposed to do, the Dark One's magic wouldn't let me do it. It might be blackness, this power in me, but that doesn't make it inherently evil. There are two sides to everything, and even the dark knows when something's off. Killian's death itself was neither wrong nor right; it simply was. But, as it turns out, his _life_ was right, because it made _me_ right. _That's_ what makes it unnatural that he died." She took a deep breath and looked Emma right in the eye. "You know I'm right. I'm not being selfish, and I'm not just trying to get him back. I'm trying to make things right. This is _my_ redemption, Emma, and I'll be damned if you think you're going to take that from me."

"Wait, wait." Emma sighed. She knew Other Emma was right. And by the way, how fucking twisted does her life have to be, really? "You're right. So... now what?"

Other Emma stopped moving and turned, and it was the first time she looked anything but dark. She was almost beaming. "Now, we figure out how to talk to Regina. Then you talk to her. Ask her to see the Marian thing from both sides. Keep it civil. And keep Killian Jones the hell away from it."

Emma turned to face forward, bracing her palms on the steering wheel. This other version of herself told her to trust her instincts, and right now? Her instincts told her to just go with it. Yeah, she had to go talk to Regina.

She had to save Killian.

"Fine. But you're not coming with me."

"Emma—"

"No. Don't. Let's not take the chance of screwing with time lines any more than we need to, all right?" Before Other Emma could object, Emma's pocket started vibrating. Taking her phone out, she saw that it was a text from David, asking her to check on Mary Margaret and the baby for him because he was too busy to stop by at lunch. Sighing, Emma turned to her other self as she turned the key and started the engine.

"I have to stop by the loft, and you're coming with me. I don't know what else to do with you." Future Emma looked grim, but she nodded without comment. She drew the hood back over her hair and Emma pulled into gear, her mind racing with what she would say to Regina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, i spent so much time thinking about what neal's ~special thing~ would be. ASK ME ABOUT MY BB NEAL META, I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT


	4. Chapter 4

Emma pulled up outside of the building and scanned the streets, looking for anyone who might notice that she had a new guest in tow. Cutting the engine, she got out of the car and ushered the hooded figure into the building, taking the steps quickly and hurrying up to the loft. Letting herself in, she held her arm out, keeping the woman from entering until she was certain the coast was clear.

There didn't seem to be anyone around; Henry was still in school, David was doing whatever was keeping him from checking in, and she could hear the water running in the bathroom, meaning Mary Margaret was probably taking a bath. Other Emma followed her into the loft, softly closing the door behind her. Emma watched as she stepped in, looking around like... well, kind of like she had stepped into the past and was amazed that everything looked so... the same. An almost soft smile briefly lit her face as she turned in a circle, taking everything in. She took off her cloak and slung it on the back of the sofa.

A squawk came from the crib that was against the far wall, and Emma had a moment of panic when she heard the faucet turn off. Rushing over to the bathroom, she knocked and called out, "Hey, take your time. I'm here, I'll watch Neal. You just—take a nice, long bath and I'll be right here. Don't worry about rushing or anything." Mary Margaret called out a cheery, "Thanks, Em!", and when Emma turned back around, it was to see Other Emma frozen in place. Whether at Mary Margaret's voice or Neal's crying or what, she didn't know, but the other woman looked shell-shocked.

With a sigh, Emma began walking over to the crib, but the other woman held her hand out, much like Emma had done a minute ago. "Let me," she whispered, and even though her head told her no, her instinct said "let her." So, she did. Backing away slowly, she decided to make some tea and give her future self the chance to soothe the baby.

She busied herself with getting mugs and rummaging around for tea, all the while keeping one eye across the loft. Other Emma was standing by the crib, making soft shushing sounds. She seemed hesitant to touch the baby, but he had stopped crying; Emma smiled, glad that the other woman could have a moment like that, especially since it seemed like she needed it.

After flipping the switch on the electric kettle, she accidentally knocked over the box of tea; she crouched down to pick it up when she heard the front door open and someone step inside.

Oh, fuck.

"There you are, love. I went and picked up some sandwiches, I hope you do not mind. I find that all that excessive paperwork makes for a starving pirate."

Shit. She couldn't move.

"Love? Is that— did you change your hair?"

Emma almost jumped when all the lights in the loft dimmed before flaring brightly back to life.

"Emma? It's different. Not bad! Come now, do not look at me so. I—I like it."

Then she spoke. The other's voice was small, quiet. "You recognize me?"

"Of course I do," he chuckled. "Come. Let's have a look at you, then." Emma's eyes widened. She crawled as silently as she could, peering around the edge of the kitchen island, praying Killian wouldn't see her.

"There's something else," he was murmuring. Emma saw that he was about a foot away from her other, his one hand on her shoulder and his hook sweeping through the long, dark hair. How did he not know? "Did you get one of those makeovers that Ruby is always on about? Was it particularly strenuous? You seem... fatigued." Other Emma chuckled darkly, the husky sound making Killian's head tilt back. "Are you all right, love?"

"No," she whispered. Her eyes never left his, and Emma could have sworn that for a moment, they flashed green. "And yes. This is... this is good."

"Good." He slid his hand up her neck, fingers splaying out until he was holding the side of her face. He rubbed at her chin with his thumb before leaning down to brush his lips against hers. "I like the dress as well. It reminds me of... I'm not entirely certain, actually." He laughed softly, the intimate sound filling the loft and Emma felt stupid for the hot, stabbing jealousy that seethed through her body because it was ridiculous, right? That she was incensed he didn't know it wasn't her, but it _was_ her, and this was just _really_ fucking confusing.

Seeing him with another woman hurt a lot. Emma had spent a long time watching him with other people, watching how he both purposefully and subconsciously flirted with everyone around him, how he charmed and wheedled and tried to seduce people into paying attention to him. But this was different, _he_ was different with the other version of herself. The way he moved, leading with his hips; the softening of his voice with just a hint of dark intent; he was different for Emma, and seeing the way everyone else must have seen it was certainly eye-opening.

"Are you quite certain you're all right, love?"

Emma had to blink a few times, so lost in thought she was, that she missed Other Emma retreating to the crib. She was obviously stalling, trying not to look at him anymore. _This must be killing her._

Emma thought she heard the other woman mutter something about a glamour gone awry; congratulating Other Emma's thinking, she scrambled for a way to get them all out of the situation. She had to get Killian out of the loft. Silently crawling backward, she sat on the floor and leaned against the island, trying to think.

She felt the buzzing of her phone and it hit her; ignoring the text from David, she went into her contacts and hit "S" for the switchboard. Shooting a quick text, she waited impatiently, praying the Lost Boy working the boards wasn't out for a smoke break or eating or something.

Thankfully, Killian's text alert ("But why is the rum gone!", Henry's idea of hilarity) sounded. He sighed and mumbled an apology, promising to make it up to her later in that deep, low voice he only ever used on her. She heard the sound of plastic containers thumping on the counter somewhere above her, then footsteps, a gentle, "Until later, love," and finally the closing of the door.

Emma immediately jumped up, looking over at Other Emma, who was still bent over the side of Neal's crib.

"You all right over there?"

It took a few moments for the other woman to nod her head once, short and crisp. Emma was trying to decide whether to go over and offer comfort or something (a hug seemed... yeah, no) when the kettle beeped. She set about fixing some strong, black tea (a habit she'd picked up from Killian), then carried it over to the sofa.

"That can't happen again," Other Emma whispered, loud enough for Emma to hear.

"I know."

"He... he didn't really notice something was wrong."

"Sure he did, he kept asking if you were okay."

Her voice held just a bit of confused wonder. "He thought I was you."

"You sort of are." Emma chose her next words carefully, not quite understanding them herself but knowing, somehow, that they were true. "He always sees right through the bullshit, you know. Open book and all. I don't think the cover matters to him so much as the words inside."

The other turned around at that, a wry smile on her face. "Gone poet, huh?"

"Shut up. You know it's true. Took _me_ a long time to figure that out, so I'd think _you_ wouldn't forget something like that."

"It's just been a long time."

"I know." Other Emma came over to join her on the sofa, and they sipped at their tea, each lost in her own private thoughts.

"Do you know what you're going to say yet?" The other finally broke the silence, putting her mug down softly.

"Didn't you tell me to rely more on my instincts?" Emma said dryly. "No idea. I think 'I'm' and 'sorry' ought to be in there somewhere, don't you?"

"I don't know. I tried that already, remember? Just... don't forget. Regina may be a bit reactionary, but she _is_ capable of reason and logic. Actually, she's really good about that stuff, just not when it's applied to her. Don't use qualifiers to try and take the blame off of you. Be as simple and straight-forward as possible. 'Look, Regina, I will never stop feeling terrible about interfering with your love life, but I hope you'll come to see that saving Marian is a good thing.' Or something. I don't know, I fucked it up when I tried to do it." Emma supposed she had a point there.

"I just don't know," she sighed, setting her mug down. There was more silence, and then Emma heard the tell-tale sounds of her mother finishing her bath. The swishing of water indicating the tub was being emptied sounded through the walls, startling Emma out of her thoughts.

"Quick. Go back to the Bug. I'll come meet you in five." She tossed her keys into Other Emma's lap and grabbed the mugs. "Go! Go. Unlike Killian, I don't think Mary Margaret won't notice that you're all... you." The other nodded, abruptly standing and grabbing her cloak before rushing out of the apartment.

Not even five minutes later, Emma hurried down the stairs, practically tripping on the pavement in her rush to get to the car. Thankfully, the streets were still relatively empty and the few people around didn't seem to notice anything was off. She jumped into the Bug and drove away before giving anyone the chance to see her passenger.

She drove around aimlessly for a few minutes, still at a loss. Usually when action was required of her, there was always some visible, tangible threat; something she could focus on, some decisive way of acting. This? Was not that. This was the potential of a threat, the promise that something was definitely, maybe going to happen. And she didn't like it. It hit her with the full force of... well, a future she didn't want to contemplate: she had to get this one right. All the other times, all the other ways the Savior had to save, those hadn't seemed real to her despite the fact that she often stared them directly in the eye. This one felt too real, and the only clue she had that it was really happening was sitting next to her in the car. She knew it was all true; could feel it in her gut, that deep-down place where her magic thrived and danced and occasionally burned. And right now, it was a fucking _inferno_ , anticipatory fire licking at every part of her, waiting and not afraid to show excitement about it.

"You're going to get that arson call out in the forest. Head to where you found Gold running around that one time, that's near where it all happened."

Emma jerked her head in acknowledgment. Setting her lips in a firm line, she did exactly as Other Emma said.

"You stay right here," Emma told her future self ten minutes later. She had pulled her car to the side of the road in roughly the same area she had once parked to look for Gold. She knew and Other Emma knew that she would have to do this alone, but the apprehension on the other's face probably mirrored her own expression.

"I—I will. But Emma? I believe in you. I believe you won't fuck up."

"Thanks," Emma replied with a wry chuckle. "So I guess..."

"That if— _when_ you succeed, I'll just blip out of existence."

"Yeah," Emma replied softly. Not knowing what else to say, she gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Stepping out of the car and onto the springy ground cover on the side of the road, it really hit her that if things went as planned, she would never see her future self again. That gave her pause, and she looked over her shoulder. The woman sitting in the car waved her off, mouthing "go" and looking exasperated. Well, then. No sentimentality it is.

Fifteen or so minutes later, she was just reaching the crest of a short hill when she heard it; the sound of a lot of people. As she made for the top, she saw the encampment that marked where the Merry Men were living. Was this the arson? Did one of their campfires get out of control?

"Sheriff!" came a jovial cry. Emma smiled; she couldn't help it. Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Somehow, out of all of the ridiculous real-life fairy tales she was faced with daily, this one always seemed the most... legendary to her. "Come join us, we were just comparing acts of bravery!"

"That one keeps company with a fearsome pirate and had a child with the Dark One's son. I'm putting my farthing on her," came another voice, and Emma didn't even bother trying to figure out who said what. Smiling tightly, she greeted the assorted people (and tried to ignore the bright, guilt-inducing warm smile from Marian).

"So listen, is everything all right out here? I just came to check on you guys, make sure you're all squared away." It was as good an excuse as any.

"Smashing, Sheriff." That one was Little John; she recognized him from the whole turning-into-a-monkey thing. "Although we thought the forest a-fire a few minutes ago; perhaps the wind carried some sparks from our campfire. I was just about to use my new communication device to contact you."

"Perhaps." Hmm. Or maybe it came from a certain person who was known to get her fireball on a little too easily. "Where was this? I can go check it out, make sure everything's okay." Several of the men pointed in the same direction, and with an acknowledging head tilt and a small wave, Emma left the camp, tromping in the direction to which they had pointed.

It didn't take long to find Regina. She was seated on the forest floor, and Emma knew she was in a bad way because when did Regina ever do anything that was less than immaculately elegant?

"Hey," she called out softly, for lack of anything better to say. "It's Emma."

"What do you want?" Regina's voice sounded tired, almost defeated, and completely unsurprised. Like she'd been expecting Emma to show up. Like she was too tired to contemplate the conversation that was about to take place. Like Regina, too, thought the confrontation inevitable.

"I—Regina, did you set the forest on fire?" Oh, great. Accuse the woman of arson, that'll get the ball rolling.

"It was an accident," Regina said quietly. Her voice lacked its usual steely verve, and that gave Emma pause more than anything else. The woman seemed so fragile, but Emma knew that was far from the truth. People in a vulnerable state can be unpredictable when cornered, and Emma knew Regina would probably—scratch that, _definitely_ —be the extreme example of that. She had to watch it. She _really_ needed to make sure she didn't goad the Queen.

"I know that," Emma said, her voice soft in turn. "You don't hurt people anymore. Everyone knows that, Regina."

"Not everyone," she replied, looking away, and Emma's heart actually twisted with guilt. _You caused this_ , her mind told her. _But so did Regina_.

"Regina, I—" Emma had to take a deep, steadying breath, partly because she didn't know the ending to that sentence. Hunkering down, she dusted off a log and pulled it over to sit near Regina. Hovering over the Queen wouldn't help keep the conversation civil. "I don't know what to say, honestly. But I want to say it anyway."

"Save your apologies, Savior," Regina spat, but it was half-hearted and practically indifferent.

"I didn't come here to apologize. I came here to—"

"To what? Throw it in my face? Gloat? Well, you can take your—"

"No, Regina." _I won't let you pick a fight with me._ "I just... thought you could use a sympathetic ear." It sounded lame, Emma knew that; but she figured if their positions were reversed and Emma had lost Killian to a suddenly back-from-the-dead Milah, she'd desperately need to talk about it with someone. And would be terrified of talking about it at the same time. What the hell, in for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever that expression was, right? "I realize I'm probably the last person you'd want to confide in, but—"

"You're right about that. This is your fault, after all."

"You know that isn't true," Emma said softly, maintaining eye contact and calling on her magic to keep her from wincing.

Regina glared for a moment, and Emma actually saw the sparks flickering in her eyes, but they left as quickly as they arrived, replacing their fire with a wide, watery gaze. "Perhaps. But you definitely had a hand in it."

"I did."

"As long as you're aware." Emma folded her hands in her lap and waited. She remembered seeing on some TV show or maybe hearing on NPR that sometimes, the best thing you can do is just let someone talk, never really saying anything except small phrases of acknowledgment. It was supposed to be cathartic for them, or something.

"I didn't come out here to do anything, you know. I just... I miss him." Emma wanted to offer comfort, but she knew Regina wouldn't accept that, so she continued the not speaking plan and simply kept looking at Regina with as placid an expression as she could muster. "I saw them, together, laughing and carrying on like they'd been doing it without interruption for years, and something in me snapped. It was... terrible. I felt so jealous, but deeper than that, I felt sad. And regret." Regina's eyebrow arched high and her back straightened, almost painfully high. "I don't often do regret, so it made me uncomfortable. When I'm uncomfortable, my magic jumps into action mode. Some sparks flew. That was all."

"I believe you," Emma said firmly. And she did. There was no deceit coming from Regina, only sadness and her fuck-you vibe. After a few more moments of silence, Emma called on her courage and decided to venture forth. "Maybe things were meant to be this way."

Regina gave her an incredulous look, her eyes widening almost comically so. "You're saying I'm meant to be miserable?"

"No," Emma replied hastily. "I mean—maybe you weren't really supposed to kill Marian. Because, Regina. Do you really think Robin would have been cool with finding out you were the one who killed her? I mean, he knew you had her executed, but he didn't know you were the executioner, right?"

"Do you think I don't know that?," Regina snapped, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "Of course that occurred to me. I've thought about this way more than you have, trust me." She stood up, brushing at the back of her pants. "I was told that he was meant for me and I for him. Obviously, the Fates have a shitty sense of humor. I've known most of my life that villains don't get happy endings. More the fool me for actually believing that I would be the exception."

"No!" Emma practically shouted. "Regina, you can't think that way. You're not a villain, not anymore. And... who knows how this will turn out? I mean, Robin has been without his wife for years, right? And love doesn't just go away. He loves you, Regina. He does, I can see it in the way he still looks at you. But here's the thing—if he just left her for you, wouldn't that taint him in your eyes? I mean, I don't know him that well, but he seems like the honorable, gentlemanly type. Wouldn't that sort of make him less of an honorable man if he dropped her flat and left her alone in this strange realm?" Regina's eyes were narrowed, her lips pursed; she cocked her head to the side and regarded Emma, and she could only hope that the Queen was seriously considering her words.

"What would you know about honorable men? You kiss pirates for fun." _Don't, Emma; be cool, be cool, be cool._

She took a deep breath before answering. "They're a lot alike, you know. Like... they live by the same code, or whatever. A thieving, pirate code, but still. A code." Regina gave a short bark of laughter at that.

"The gods save us from reformed, thieving pirates," she muttered, and Emma laughed, too.

With that shared laughter, she suddenly felt lighter, weight sheeting off her like steam escaping from a lifted lid off a boiling pot. She hadn't realized how tense she was until that very moment, when her magic just... vaporized right out of her. Settled down, stopped being so tense, whatever. She felt lighter; it was the only way to explain it.

"What the hell was that?" Regina muttered. Emma looked up, startled; was Regina able to feel her magical whatevers now?

"You felt it, too?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yes. It was odd, like... I could breathe again, only I didn't know I was being suffocated. I wonder..." Regina looked around, searching for something before locking eyes with Emma. "Did it feel that way for you, too?"

"Sort of," Emma murmured. She was saved from further comment by the ringing of her phone. The cartoon picture of Captain Hook (Henry again) was on the screen. "Hey," she greeted him with a laugh.

"Emma," he said, his voice full of panicked concern. "Are you all right, love? I... I just had the oddest sensation that you were gone, and I- is everything well?"

Now that was interesting. Gone? "Yeah, I'm good. Just checking things out in the forest."

"Yes, we got a call about possible arson. I was just going to call you when I felt that—thing." He paused, and she heard him take a shaky breath. "I felt like the world dropped out from under me, and then a sort of soaring sensation." He laughed again, his voice a little stronger. "Are you quite sure everything is all right?"

"Yeah, it's great, actually," she said, feeling like laughing herself. Because she _knew_. Everything was fine. "I'm heading back to the station. See you in twenty?"

"I shall count the minutes, love."

Pressing the red button, she pocketed her phone and lifted her head to face Regina again.

"You want a ride back to town?"

"In your Volkswagen? I think not. I'll just..." Regina quirked her lip and waggled her fingers in an efficient, elegant gesture. "Zap myself home."

"Okay. Hey, Regina?" The Queen raised her head. "For what it's worth, I think things are going to work out for you."

"Dare to dream, Miss Swan," she replied, her voice soft. Then with a smirk, she disappeared in a poof of purple smoke.

Emma hiked back to her car, smiling to herself. Had it worked? Were they in the clear?

Would she and Regina be okay?

She sure hoped so.

When she made it back to her Bug, she got her answer.

Other Emma was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, when i watched the first seven minutes of the premiere, i was shitting myself wondering if this fic was going to get jossed in the middle of posting. thankfully, no. thanks for reading! just one chapter left after this one.


	5. Chapter 5

About a half hour later, Emma pulled up to the station. She felt bone-weary— physically, mentally, emotionally; magically. It was worse than when they'd returned from their Emma and Hook Change Everything fun time adventure. All she wanted to do was curl up in some flannel pajamas and sleep for a year.

Before she could even get both legs out of her car, she found herself being pulled into the warm, tense embrace of her—pirate. God, he smelled good. Like whiskey-laced coffee and safety. Funny, she'd been thinking so much about saving his life that she hadn't stopped to think about how much she needed him. Needed things like his arms wrapped around her and the rasp of his scruff on her forehead, his lips brushing over her skin, murmuring words of encouragement or love or assurance into her hair. Love was so gross and amazing and _necessary_.

"The glamour must have worn off. You seem your old self again."

"Hmm," she hummed noncommittally. Best if they both forgot all about the black-haired, empty-eyed Emma. They wouldn't ever see her again. Closing her eyes and sighing deeply, she sent a silent thought out into the ether, thanking her future self for that particular sacrifice. When she opened her eyes again she smiled, stepping further into his embrace.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in years," she mumbled into his chest. She felt the rumble of his laughter against her face and it traveled down her throat and right into her magic, making her entire body hum with warmth and a feeling of fullness. It was always this way with him now, like she was a dog that had been fed a great steak and was still begging for more. And Killian certainly enjoyed feeding her.

"Is that so?" he murmured. She felt the tug of his hand fisting in her hair, his fingers lightly brushing at the nape of her neck. "How about a kiss worthy of a long separation, then?" He pulled at the tresses he was still grasping, making her look up into his face. As always, she felt a tingle in her gut just looking at the guy. He always looked so good to her, and it had nothing to do (mostly, anyway) with his nearly offensive beauty.

"You couldn't handle it."

His answering grin made her bite her lip. His eyes trained on that movement, and he addressed his next sentence to that corner of her mouth.

"You're right about that," he said softly. "But I do _so_ enjoy trying." Still holding her hair, he descended the scant inches separating them. Her heart sped up with the closeness, as it always did with him; he didn't kiss her, however, instead brushing his face against hers, nuzzling into her ear and sending waves of warm heat down to her belly. She felt the stirring crackle of magic (the lusty kind of magic) and had to hold back a gasp.

"I have the oddest feeling of missing you, though it's only been a scant few hours. Perhaps I'm growing too attached."

"Are you saying you wanna spend some time apart?" Her tone was light; she almost felt giddy with the relief that was descending on her. She'd done it, she'd really done it.

"Quite the opposite, actually." His words were soft and dancing across her ear, his breath and body warm. She could feel his intentions growing and flowing all around her, and like it had been for years, before they ever even got together, her body responded. "Come, let's call it a day. I read about this technique on the internet that I want to try out." He nipped at her ear and damn her magic and damn him for working together to make her so aroused.

"I thought the computer confused you."

"Paperwork confuses me, Swan. Google is fairly straight-forward."

"I don't even wanna know what you were googling when you should have been working. What do I keep you around for, again?" She stepped away and slapped at his chest, keeping her hand pressed near his heart. He looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he was actually contemplating her question.

"Well, I am rather knowledgeable about things of a criminal nature."

"Uh huh." She locked the Bug and started walking to the station door.

"I charm the denizens of the town."

"David's the Charming one, remember?" She walked in and hung her jacket on the hat stand.

"Well, then I suppose you keep me around because I win gold medals in Olympic cunnilingus." She turned around, shocked, her face and magic flushing pink. He waggled his fingers at her. "Google, Swan. This realm and its charms. I never want to leave this world." Her gaze softened at that and he looked confused by whatever he saw in her face. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his jaw.

"Yeah, and I'm here to make sure you never do. Not without me by your side, anyway." His answering grin was so wide, so full of amazement that she swelled just thinking about him, and he was right in front of her, for Pete's sake.

He felt around behind him, turning the deadbolt on the station door. In a flash, his expression went from extreme joy to sinister _intent_.

"What I googled doesn't involve you at my _side_ , love. Will you let me?"

She did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> so, i have this thing about man-out-of-time stories. i've written a few, but this is the first woman out of time i've done. and i wanted to explore the idea of magic a little bit, so here we are. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy this; i wrote it in three nights. it's complete, i just need to edit and break it up into chapters. it's a little under 15k words. it'll be complete before the premiere of season four. thanks for reading, let me know what you think here or over on tumblr (i'm this-too-too-sullied-flesh).


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